Chapter 160: Mao Wenlong Takes the Blame

At this moment, heads were rolling at the Prince of Fu's estate, while far away in Liaodong, in a dense forest near Xianshanji close to Dongjiang, a band of strapping men lay sprawled in disarray — those with wounds bandaged themselves or were helped by the men beside them, and those without wounds simply shut their eyes for a brief, fitful rest.

Before long, a lean, wiry man came running over, panting heavily.

He called out to a towering, broad-shouldered man of singularly strange appearance who, even amid the jumbled crowd, still sat ramrod-straight: "Big Brother, hurry — those damn Jianzhou barbarians are chasing us again, we've got to move!"

The towering man abruptly rose to his feet and called out, "Brothers, up — the road comes first." With that, he got his bearings and strode forward.

Beside him, a boy of about seven, with rather fine, delicate features, silently rose at these words just like the thirty-odd remaining men, and followed close behind the man.

A similarly strapping man beside the towering one suddenly yanked at a Jianzhou barbarian bound with rope and asked, "Big Brother, we've come a thousand li to join the army in Liaodong — it would've been easier to go through Denglai.

Why did you insist on dragging us brothers off to snatch this Jianzhou barbarian?"

The towering man replied in a gruff voice: "Don't you understand courtesy demands reciprocity? We're going to Dongjiang to enlist — if we show up empty-handed, we'll only make General Mao Wenlong look down on us."

The questioning man pressed on: "Even so, we didn't have to snatch some twenty-something-year-old nobody. We've already lost two brothers because of him. If you ask me, we ought to dump him, sneak back, and figure out a way to grab that five- or six-year-old instead."

The towering man glared at the questioner and barked, "Have you gone stupid? What damn use is snatching a five- or six-year-old brat?

Can he lead troops, can he do anything? This one is the son of that dog barbarian Daishan.

If I hadn't missed word of his eldest son's whereabouts, I'd have gone after that one called Yue Tuo instead."

Seeing the man still wore an uncomprehending, blank expression, the towering man cursed with the tone of one lamenting unworthy steel: "Snatch a little brat, and General Mao Wenlong will look down on us.

But swap in this bastard, and no matter what, it'll make people think a little higher of us brothers. If we can get ourselves formed into our own company, what's there to fear about lacking battle merits then?

Every one of us brothers will have a noble title within sight!"

The man muttered, "Anyway, my brain's slow. Whatever Big Brother says, I'll do. I'll just listen to Big Brother."

The party spoke no more, only trudging onward with heads down. The Jianzhou barbarian said to be Daishan's son, his hands bound tight and a hemp-wrapped walnut stuffed in his mouth, could voice no suffering and could only stumble along after them.

If he lagged by the slightest bit, he either got a lash of the whip or had a new cut opened with a blade — the journey was truly misery beyond words.

Meanwhile, in Shenyang, which the Jianzhou barbarians called their Shengjing, Daishan, the banner lord of the Plain Red Banner, stared at Borjigit Gulian, the Jala-i Janggū, kneeling on the ground, and felt the urge to hack him to death with a blade.

He paced back and forth a few steps, then suddenly kicked Gulian flat onto the ground with one foot and roared, "Speak! How in the hell was that wretch Šoto taken?!"

Gulian, kicked to the ground, showed no anger. He simply flipped over, resumed kneeling properly, and kowtowed: "Replying to the Beile, some days ago, the young master took this slave and the others on an inspection tour toward Liaoyang. He was taken while resting in a village."

Daishan gave a cold laugh. "And what fine business took him all the way to Liaoyang? Resting in a village? More likely he went to the village to ruin some family's daughter, wasn't it? Speak! Who exactly did this?"

Gulian kowtowed once more before continuing: "This slave does not know. The party numbered somewhat over thirty. Because the young master at the time ordered that no one disturb him, and considering the young master's fine martial skills, we slaves grew careless."

Daishan, his fury mounting the more he heard, could no longer contain the rage in his heart. He kicked Gulian relentlessly, cursing as he kicked: "Wretched dog!

At a moment like that, even the finest martial skill — how much of it could he actually bring to bear? Do you not understand that?

Furthermore, since you let Šoto fall into enemy hands, why report it only now? Do you dog slaves not know that this Beile has already lost Yue Tuo?

First Yue Tuo was lost, and now Šoto is lost — are you dog slaves trying to leave your Beile without an heir!"

Gulian, kicked by Daishan until he rolled helplessly on the ground, dared not talk back. He could only shield his head and cry: "This slave deserves death!

This slave had only brought a single niru at the time, accompanying the young master to Liaoyang to seek some amusement. Coming back now was precisely to bring my own Jala troops to rescue the young master!

Beile, spare my life!"

Only then did Daishan's rage subside somewhat. He roared: "Get out! If you don't bring Šoto back, you needn't return either!"

Gulian then flipped over and knelt properly, kowtowing: "Ja!"

After Daishan waved his hand, Gulian rose, bowed, and withdrew. He went straight to muster the troops of his own Jala still in Shenyang and set off in pursuit of the single niru that had been searching for Šoto all along.

Daishan, however, could not calm his mind. He simply headed for the Jianzhou barbarians' mock palace, and sought an audience with Hong Taiji.

Hong Taiji looked at Daishan standing before him, meek and submissive as a little daughter-in-law, and felt immensely pleased. He put on an act and said, "What brings Elder Brother to your younger brother's place at this hour?"

Daishan cursed inwardly at Hong Taiji for playing dumb — that dog slave Gulian had come back to report earlier; could you, Hong Taiji, possibly not know by now?

But a man under someone else's roof has no choice but to bow his head. Now that he had a favor to ask of Hong Taiji, Daishan put on a full show of deference without hesitation: "Reporting to the Great Khan, my worthless son Šoto, fooling around, was taken by someone in Liaoyang.

His whereabouts are now unknown, his fate uncertain. This slave begs the Great Khan, in your great mercy, to save Šoto."

Hong Taiji feigned great alarm: "Such a thing has happened? First Yue Tuo was lost, and your younger brother's heart was already heavy with guilt. This time, no matter what, we must get Šoto back — otherwise, how could your younger brother ever face Father Khan again?"

Watching Hong Taiji put on this show of mustering troops and dispatching men to the rescue, Daishan, though he knew full well the greater part of it was playacting, still wore a face streaming with grateful tears: "The Great Khan's profound grace — this slave could not repay it even with ten thousand deaths!"

Hong Taiji waved his hand and said, "What words are these, Elder Brother? Šoto is Elder Brother's son, which makes him your younger brother's nephew. We are the closest of family."

Seeing Daishan still wore a deeply moved expression, Hong Taiji pressed on: "Since the relief troops have been dispatched, let us set this matter aside for now. The grain and fodder I asked Elder Brother to prepare last time — how goes the preparation?"

Daishan was in no mood at this moment to care about any grain or fodder. He answered perfunctorily: "Replying to the Great Khan, the grain and fodder are nearly ready."

Hong Taiji sneered inwardly, but his face showed no change. He merely said flatly, "In that case, summon Amin, Dorgon, and the others to come and discuss the campaign against Dongjiang together.

In your younger brother's view, those who took Šoto are surely men of that dog barbarian Mao Wenlong. This is just the chance to settle the score for Nephew Yue Tuo as well!"

Hearing Hong Taiji's analysis, Daishan finally roused himself and responded, "The Great Khan is brilliantly wise. This slave will go at once to fetch Amin, Dorgon, and the others."

When Amin, Dorgon, Manggultai, Dodo, and the rest had once again assembled in the Jianzhou barbarians' mock palace, the barbarians conferred and decided they might as well not wait any longer — they would strike now.

Mao Wenlong had grown far too repulsive: first he had succeeded before, causing Yue Tuo to fall into his hands, and now the dog, failing to appreciate his good fortune, had pulled the same trick again and made off with Šoto too.

If this went on, which of the Jianzhou barbarians present, great or small, did not have a family? Which did not have a few sons?

Losing one or two — or, to put it bluntly, having one or two die — was not heartbreaking, but at this rate, how many sons did any of them have that could withstand Mao Wenlong's ravages?

If they did not eliminate this dog soon, none of them would need to do anything else — they might as well stay home every day making little babies and sons with their own Fujin, for otherwise they might not keep up with the speed of dying...

It's Friday again — time to go all out and grind out some chapters...

Aerospace Science and Technology sends people into the heavens; Aerospace Science and Industry... they're in charge of sending people to the Western Paradise.

There's an international Convention on Cluster Munitions, which says cluster bombs pose too great a threat to civilians and are prone to leaving duds, so they should be banned.

To date, the convention has over 100 member states, all of which are prohibited from manufacturing or using most types of cluster munitions and must destroy their stockpiles within eight years. It's just that...

The world's three largest producers of cluster munitions — the Bald Eagle, Big Mao, and the Rabbit — none of them signed.

The one that's used cluster bombs the most is the Eagle family. From hitting the Viet Monkeys and Cambodia to Desert Storm and Kosovo, the Eagle family's favorite thing to use is this stuff: drop one, it turns into many on its own, then crackle-bang, one shell, many booms.

According to Baidu, NATO forces dropped a total of 1,392 cluster bombs in Kosovo; NATO estimates that 8%–12% of the bombs failed to explode, leaving 34,744 unexploded submunitions on the ground.

Sure enough, the lingering danger is huge — but the Eagle family says if it's not on their turf, they're not worried.

Integrity and all that — the most annoying thing ever.

(This chapter is complete)